


in my dreams you saw a way to survive

by Marenke



Series: the quaren-fics [12]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Assassination, Camp Nanowrimo, F/F, Historical, Horror, Human/Vampire Relationship, Mild Gore, Murder Wives, Vampires, in a way., vaguely though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:27:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23506111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marenke/pseuds/Marenke
Summary: Sewing flowers was always so complicated. With a sigh, Vertiline stabbed the needle with more strength through the tissue than necessary.
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Series: the quaren-fics [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896019
Kudos: 10





	in my dreams you saw a way to survive

Sewing flowers was always so complicated. With a sigh, Vertiline stabbed the needle with more strength through the tissue than necessary, and huffed at the man who looked at her with fearful eyes.

"It would be easier if I wasn't asked to do red roses, I assure you." She said to him, and got some pleas in the form of grunted sounds. "I know, I know, but you're a red rose man, and miss Cook said it was necessary."

At the mention of her employer, the man started to bodily protest, trying to move away from the range of Vertiline's needle. She proceeded to "accidentally" hit him in both eyes.

"Oops." She said, as his eyes slowly deflated. "Pardon me, sir, but I would prefer that you did not move. I do have a very pointy needle in hands, you see."

He yelled, or at least Vertiline assumed that was what the noise his throat made was. She couldn't be sure; there was at least three or four socks stuck in his mouth.

Vertiline kept sewing, watching as scarlet bloomed on his cheeks. She liked her job, even though it made her smell like a butcher's shop. In a sense, she was.

By day, she worked as a simple shopkeeper in an antiquary, keeping her head down and serving tea. By night, she was an assassin for hire, for the ladies of high society who had been spurned by their loves and prospects. They liked the creativity she brought to the table, and they paid well enough.

Vertiline wasn't sure what this man had done, but he had been taken away from the streets with surprising ease. She wasn't even sure the significance of the red roses; when she showed miss Cook her portfolio, she asked if Vertiline could sew flowers. When Vertiline mentioned roses, miss Cook teared up and asked if she could do roses.

She could, they simply weren't good enough. So while she planned, she practiced sewing roses until they were perfect: this would be her magnum opus. So far, they bloomed over his face, contouring his cheeks, joining at his chin and descending through his throat to form a heart on his chest. Cheesy, on Vertiline's opinion, but also as dramatic as miss Cook.

But her opinion did not matter. She finished the rose she'd been working on and started the next. Vertiline had been given a job, and by God, she'd complete it. There was too much money on the line to not complete it.

The man screamed more. Vertiline ignored it.

* * *

By sunrise, he was dead, her work done, and his body had been put, quite prettily, on display on the Trafalgar Square, where the pigeons had already pecked at his body. It was a beautiful sight: she'd cut every rose she found on her way there, and put him at the center of the bouquet, his chest bare for the world to see. She had taken out his deflated eyes, and sewn in some wreaths over his eyelids. She was sure miss Cook wouldn't mind her taking some artistic liberties and his eyeballs, who now sat neatly inside her pockets.

She doubted she'd be found. It wasn't her first rodeo, but that didn't matter: she had to go to her day job. Mr. Wright would fire her in a heartbeat in she didn't have the shop open at eight, sharp.

At the antiquary, she picked up one of Mr. Wright's prized antique perfume bottles on her way inside, spraying herself with it to mask the cold iron smell and going to the little room she got as part of her job.

Inside the cramped four walls, Isabelle slept, her black hair falling over her face. Vertiline glanced at the tiny window that did not open, and closed the curtains.

It wouldn't do for her lover to burn to ashes, would it? Sitting down carefully on the bed, she shook Isabelle awake, and the vampire woke up, slowly.

"Good morning, Verd." Isabelle yawned, her too-thick, sometimes incomprehensible French accent slurring her words together. Her red eyes shone in the low light, and Vertiline took from her pockets the eyeballs, offering them up with bloodied fingers. "Oh, for me?"

"Yes, they're fresh." She opened her mouth, showing the fangless teeth, and Vertiline put one gently inside, touching with softness the skin of her mouth, wet and warm. Her fingers touched the bottom part of Isabella's incisors as she deposited the deflated eyeball there, and Isabella closed her lips around the fingers, sucking them dry of the coat of blood they had.

Isabella was a vampire, but something had happened to her fangs - something she refused to divulge, and Vertiline did not pry her for information -, which made her unable to drink blood. She had survived until she met Vertiline by stalking butcher shops and drinking the cold, rancid blood of dead cows and pigs and chickens.

Vertiline already has blood on her hands when they met. To fall in love was natural, and the few prizes she took wouldn't be missed from her victims.

With a loud popping sound, Vertiline took off her fingers from Isabella's mouth, and the girl purred in satisfaction as she swallowed the eyeball without chewing.

"Tastes of fear. A slight twinge of arousal." She said, smiling warmly. Vertiline offered the other eyeball, and Isabella's eyes grew. "Two?"

"Only the best for my lovely wife." Vertiline said, putting the eyeball in her mouth. It didn't taste like fear to Vertiline; it was a slightly sweet taste, with a spongy yet firm texture on her mouth. She sloshed it around, and Isabella kissed her passionately, pinning her to the bed with such speed that Vertiline only noticed what happened when she felt the girl's weight atop her body, the black, long hair a curtain between them and the world. Her hands were being by Isabella above her head, and she was absolutely helpless.

With Isabella gently prodding her mouth as a cue, Vertiline opened her mouth, revealing the eyeball inside - which Isabella took with her tongue into her own mouth, and Vertiline could've sworn she heard her swallowing the eyeball, ringing into the walls of her skull until it deafened her, lips still glued together.

When they separated because Vertiline needed to breathe, Isabella smiled with lips coated in red. With her free hand, she teased, gently, the button of Vertiline's dress.

"Can I?" She asked, breathless, and Vertiline shook her head.

"Mr. Wright would fire me, if we did. I have to open the shop." Vertiline laughed, as she saw Isabella pout. "Aw, come on. Don't be like that. I don't have any jobs lined up for the next few nights."

That made Isabella smile, kissing her again for a moment.

"Oh, I'll ruin you." She declared, nuzzling her face into the curve of Vertiline's neck, teeth biting gently into the skin.

Isabella could never ruin her; Vertiline had ruined herself.


End file.
